


Call It Trouble

by blueberry



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 11:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3975940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberry/pseuds/blueberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merle's never had sex, not for real. He knows that Daryl hasn't either, and even if he's been gone so long that it might be too late to care, he needs to know if it's for the same reason.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Call It Trouble

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt "Any brothercest ship, discovering sex together".

Daryl's grown now. Still a kid, too, because when Merle looks at him he's never going to stop seeing the brat that supplied him with heart attacks for half his adolescence, but it's been a long time since they last saw each other, and now Merle's faced with a young man. Is there any point in wondering what his brother's life has been like in the meantime - what it was really like, not just with shit like school and money?

He does get cagey and cautious sometimes, falling silent this past week more than Merle's known him to since he was a toddler... Still, it's clear he's put together right - he's kept the two of them well-fed with his shooting, looks to know what he's doing as he digs around in their truck's guts and gets greased up to the elbows, and is so much taller and stronger that it feels like a fucking magic spell instead of him just growing up.

That last thing gets Merle to blurt it out; tall and strong might not mean much when it came down to it, except that after shit went down you were stuck with a helping of dumbassed surprise that you couldn't handle yourself. "You ever..." _Shit._ "...ever got in trouble, when you're alone around here?"

He reaches over and grabs Daryl with an arm around the waist before little bro starts to break himself laughing at a question that dumb.

Pulling Daryl right in as he leans back where he was sitting against his motorbike, he finds it's an easy fit, Daryl halfway to falling into his lap and going strangely still instead of trying to get away. With a voice he last used to chase his baby brother around this self-same yard, making him laugh by growling about big bad wolves, he brings his mouth in real close and says, "Darylina. Getting mighty big there, huh? Think you're a _big_ man, don't ya? Best not be thinking you're the only one."

Merle pushes him away, clears his throat furtively.

"Trouble," he explains.

" _No_!" Daryl darts back in to shove him, leaving a smack of engine grease on his shirt. "Hell, Merle, what do you take me for?"

He waits to hear, chest heaving as he breathes and fists lifting a little. Merle shrugs.

So Daryl goes back to fixing up the truck and Merle keeps watching him, careful for a time to wonder nothing and just to be with his brother.

*

"I ain't saying you're lying, that I don't believe you," Merle says when they've gone in to get something to eat. They're mostly cleaned up but he's still wearing the shirt with the mark of Daryl's hand on it, catching his eye, and he can't let this drop. It's a bullshit thing to talk about, but it's only the two of them here - the old man hasn't shown his face around the house or the woods this whole week, and the quiet makes it easier. And he needs to know. "Just making sure you haven't changed your mind about your answer. Did you ever get in trouble?"

"Trouble," Daryl mutters viciously from the opposite side of the kitchen, shutting a drawer with a slam that rattles all the cupboards, metal and crockery chiming inside them. When he talks again, his tone is smoother, lower: "Boy, hey - I've seen you around. Yeah, look at you. Dixon's kid brother. Well, if we ain't talked before, we oughta now. Don't you think, kid? There's a party we could go to. I'll give you a ride."

His arm slips around Merle's waist. A proper hunter so quiet-footed Merle hadn't noticed him moving, and his hold is shocking, since Merle's gone iced-over. "I take care of myself, don't I? _Don't I?_ " Daryl says, back to normal. "I don't fall for any bullshit comes my way. What the fuck are you worried for, there ain't nothing." The kindness breaking through in his voice gets hid to snarl, "They're your friends, anyway. Always was like that when you _were_ here."

Before Daryl can pull away, Merle gets an arm around him too, but not like before in the yard; he's aiming for some of what Daryl's giving, this reassurance. "Friends, fuck them. Pieces of shit, they're my fucking dealers. Dealer's friends. Whatever. _Nothing_ to me, Daryl, they ain't worth any damn thing." Slowly, Daryl accepts that, leaning into him. Pushing into him. Holding on with both arms, but it's all right - little brother used to get clingy like this sometimes, and it's not like he's got years and years of being grown behind him yet. He can still like it, why not? Or need. Merle can admit to need even for this when his blood is rushing, relief setting off waves inside him. He's damn far from feeling like ice now, and his hands close on Daryl with no other option left that would be bearable.

Once they finish making their sandwiches and sit down to eat, the space between them slips away. They're elbow to elbow, their legs knock against each other under the table. The air they share pulls them closer to each other, he'd swear, like all the rest of the nothing they've always had. He knows what this feeling is, even if he'd like to disbelieve it. It doesn't fade, this _attraction_ ; it gets stronger, every brush of skin between them making it feel like another one has to follow it.

*

Better it's him, Merle thinks - and Daryl was never, ever getting locked up for anything worse than the drunk tank anyway, but better it's Merle for the first time than anybody else. Just in case. No fighting, no bodies all around, no need to catch a desperate lucky break with somebody storming in before it could really get started, no pain that could be looked back on for far too long. Fuck any other word on the subject. As if anybody else could care to take a view on this in the first place, and it isn't simply the two of them on a bed, in a small room with a locked door. On the other side of the door there are only the creaks of the house settling, no footsteps, and outside there's the wind in the trees, no engine roaring up or headlights closing in.

It fucking amazes him how they can be eager to get at each other and there's nothing to it. Reaching for each other, hands slipping just underneath clothes, and it feels good. He hasn't so much as thought his stiffy was going soft, and in fact he's been so hard for so long that it's wet around the head. Daryl's top half sprawls over him, hands patting him or the sheets like either might turn out to be a startled animal, but he's tensed from the thighs down as they ride a leg each. Presses those thin lips to his throat every now and then too.

Sure, that's some pussy shit, but it isn't like Merle's out to fucking _show anybody their place_. There would be other times for Daryl to learn lessons, God knew life was full of them. And if Daryl's weight and kisses are the sole things making it hard for him to breathe, and no panic rises up like usual to drive him out of yet another bed, why should he give that up?

His brother's back arches as Merle bends the leg that Daryl's grinding into, and the movement goes through all the rest of him, making him shiver, pant out a few little sounds, and raise his head. It probably doesn't register to him to think about it before he presses a kiss to Merle's face, mouth sliding against his stubble.

Raising his head from that kiss, there's more awareness in Daryl's near-feverish bright eyes. He waits for a reaction, looking ... maybe nervous, if that. There sure isn't anything like real fear to him, he's just waiting to see if Merle's going to give him shit for it or what. And there is even less fear than that for Merle. Taken altogether it's a fucking glorious victory, and he wags his eyebrows before rolling up his hips and grabbing a double handful of Daryl's ass to push him down.

Daryl's eyes fucking cross! First time going, and baby brother up and goes cross-eyed and then they roll back a little, all overwhelmed. He's definitely getting shit for this now--

There's a laugh rising in Merle. He's been close to another body this long, held beneath it, even, dick hard and getting touched - but he wants to _laugh_ of all Goddamn things, like he's actually enjoying himself.

Daryl's just finished pumping it out when Merle comes, going like a geyser in his boxers. His grip tightens but it doesn't seem to bother Daryl; once Merle's aware of what he's doing, he lets go so that his arms are loosely around Daryl's waist, and both of them are satisfied to stay like that for a while. Eventually it's Daryl that leans over and roots around on the floor for something to wipe off with, throwing the oil rag at him after finishing with it, since Merle doesn't care about the stickiness for once, though normally when he jerks off he cleans up right after. It still feels so good, the here and now as well as the lingering sensations - Daryl's arm smooth and strong in one hand's grip, the rub of a thin trail of hair on his belly as their shirts rode up, noises gasped out near his ear. All good.

"What was so funny?" Daryl growls, lying stiff and face-down. It's the first time Merle can think of in years that he's tried to sound mean and instead sounded like a kid, desperate to be tough already.

Merle doesn't bother with an answer, just works an arm under him to haul him close enough to kiss on the hair. He can take some teasing himself if it comes down to it, and grins as Daryl snorts at the pansy-assed move.

And is amazed again as he feels a burst of relief that Daryl stays exactly where he is, his visible ear and cheek pinking up, because it feels good to keep him close. Merle reaches over his brother to hit the light switch on the wall and settles down, feeling out what it's like to have a body full up of new memories.


End file.
